


clarity in spoken truth

by wethethousands (atlantisairlock)



Category: Anatomy of a Love Seen
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, College, F/F, First Kiss, Growing Up Together, Light Angst, Misunderstandings, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:24:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/atlantisairlock/pseuds/wethethousands
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You are nineteen years old when you meet Kara Voss.</p>
            </blockquote>





	clarity in spoken truth

**Author's Note:**

> because anne is my tiny smol baby and she deserves all the happiness.
> 
> title from 'portrait 19' by the paper kites.

 You are nineteen years old when your roommate discovers you've never touched a drink in your life and drags you out to a wild party on the roof the very next night.

You are nineteen years old when you step foot into a college party and you're assaulted by the sounds, the sights, the high of it all.

You are nineteen years old when you meet Kara Voss.

 

 

It turns out that there are people other than yourself who have been coerced to join in the festivities against their will, and are decidedly not having the time of their lives. About eight of you - six girls, two boys - hide away in a corner by the electrical box and begin a game of blackjack that quickly degenerates into a game of Truth or Dare with the help of the alcohol being plied upon all the partygoers. The bottles pile up and the questions get raunchier, so it surprises you when the girl across you smiles and asks you to tell the story of your first kiss. 

There are boos from around the circle. "That's way too tame, Voss," someone shouts, and apparently-Voss smirks. "Don't be so hard on her, Yang, she looks scared shitless. Probably because she has to sit beside you."

Her tongue is wicked but there's a warmth in her eyes that makes you feel safe. You bite your lip and blush. "I've never... I haven't had my first kiss." 

"I can help you out with that!" The girl to your right laughs, drunkenly raising a hand, and that eases the tension somewhat. Someone else is already moving forward to spin the bottle, but Voss' gaze doesn't leave yours. Her expression cycles through shades of surprise, intrigue, and a heat that makes you squirm in your seat. 

When she finally looks away, you're equal parts relieved and disappointed.

 

 

To your roommate's disappointment when she wakes up hungover the next morning, you only drink two cans of beer, which means you're one of the (un)lucky few helping stone-drunk students down to their dorm rooms at the ungodly hour of 3AM. You're exhausted, wondering how you're going to make your 10AM lecture, but then someone says your name from behind you as you're walking back to your room, and your eyes fly open.

You turn, and - it's Voss. 

"Voss," you say, and she grins. "We haven't been introduced, yeah? My name's Kara."

You shake her hand. It feels oddly formal, considering the lateness of the night. She lingers, not letting go. "You said you've never had your first kiss, Pasternak."

"Anne," you correct her, with a smile on your face, and you marvel at how composed you sound when you can hear your heart thudding in your ears. Her mouth softens around the edges. "Anne," Kara repeats, and then she leans in to kiss you.  

 

 

You and Kara become friends, after a drunken night of revelry, after a game of Truth or Dare, after an unremembered kiss. Or at least you assume she doesn't remember it, because she doesn't bring it up when both of you stumble into your lecture the next day under the disapproving glance of your professor. 

You go for more parties together - 

You make an experimental short film together - 

You both graduate with honours - 

You start working together, and you make a good team - 

You both churn out four box-office hits - 

You receive your first award together - 

and for the next fifteen years, you think about that kiss every night before you fall asleep.

 

 

You do everything together. Everything. 

You'd think she'd trust you enough with - anything. Especially this.

But then Mal and Zoe are screaming at each other in the pantry and Kara is crying and talking about true love and suddenly you're nineteen years old again, in the corridor of your five-floor dorm, and your tiny purple notebook is burning a hole in your pocket. 

You look at Zoe and think dully, 

_oh_

_so this is what it's like._

 

 

"You think I don't see you?" Kara asks, incredulously, and you are so angry, you almost punch her. 

"You've got the  _nerve_ to say that to me?" You spit out. "You kissed me at 3AM fifteen years ago the very first night we met and you don't even  _remember_ it and you've got the nerve to tell me you see me?"

And she goes stiff, her jaw is steel. 

It is thirty long seconds before she speaks again.

"You thought I didn't remember that I kissed you?"

You stare at her, uncomprehending. "You didn't say jack shit to me the next day we met, Kara."

Her eyes flare with pain. "I thought - "

"You thought a lot of things, Voss," you interrupt bitterly, and you turn on your heel and leave. 

 

 

"Anne."

You don't look up at the sound of her footsteps.

You do, though, when she holds your notebook in front of your face. "You dropped this."

You snatch it back, return to your tea. She doesn't move. The atmosphere is oppressive. 

Until - 

"I meant it, about the - the true love thing." A ragged breath. "I thought - that day, after the party, I saw you. I really saw you, and you were so good. You were - you were light. So airy and kind and patient and generous and I looked at you and I thought, my god, it would be a sin to even think of laying my hands on you. But I wanted to stay with you - be with you, somehow - and we've been together for fifteen years, and I just - Anne, I'd resigned myself to the fact that it would never happen, because you're so - so - "

"Stop talking," you answer, with no heat in your voice, and fifteen years later, you kiss her back. 

**Author's Note:**

> disclaimer: i don't know shit about film school and the only information i could dig out from the interwebz was that it operates somewhat like normal colleges and you can get degrees and everything so i just rolled with that.


End file.
